


Walk With Me

by Hopeamarsu



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Other, Sadness, fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeamarsu/pseuds/Hopeamarsu
Summary: When something happens at the bar, the aftermath will take time. But mistakes can happen, right? It's only human.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. No Sleep

Clyde would prefer if you’d yell at him. Shout, scream, sprout venom, anything really. This eerily calm facade you have on makes him anxious. He knows that when you are like this, you are really mad. And it unnerves him. 

He knows what he has done (or more like what he hasn’t done) is wrong and you are rightful in your anger. At the time of it, he didn’t think things through and now… Now he must sleep in the bed he’s made.

But Clyde doesn’t know how to fix this. He’s never been good with words, they don’t come easy to him. And half of the time, the wrong words find their way out of his mouth. He wishes he’d be more like Jimmy, Joe, or hell, even Moody. They know how to speak, how to spin words, how to say the right things in the right places. 

He wants to apologize, convince you that what transpired tonight at the Duck Tape is never going to repeat itself, but he knows he will mess up again. It’s in his nature to be like this, to act like he acted and he cannot change himself. He is just a man and men make mistakes sometimes. 

“Y/N…” 

You throw up your hand, silencing him. You regard him with cool eyes like he is a bug that you are going to crush.

“Darlin’, please…” He begins again, but there is a warning flash in your eyes and he closes his mouth. He hates this, not being able to hold you like he desperately wants. He wants to wrap his arms around you, cradle your head against him, whisper in your ear how sorry he is, how much he hates fighting with you and how he wants to make it all up to you. But he knows you won’t let him near, not when you are this calm and quiet. 

“I think it’s best if I don’t sleep here tonight.” The words are carefully chosen and you speak them plainly. And while the words cut him deep, make him bleed, Clyde is relieved that you allow him this small reprieve of letting him stay here. He would fall into pieces if you’d tell him to leave his sanctuary. The place you have built together, where you have gathered all the things you love, and where your scent will give him small mercy amongst the pain. 

He watches you cross the room, retrieve your small toiletry bag and underwear from the bathroom, stuffing them into your large bag. You take the steps needed to reach the front door again, your hand on the handle before he can blink. He wants desperately to reach out, tell you to stay. But he knows that once your mind is made up, he cannot change it. He can only stand in the eye of the hurricane and wait for it to pass. 

“Where… where will ya go?” Clyde whispers.

“I’ll stay with a friend tonight.” You don’t offer him anything more, he doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve you telling him that everything will be alright, that you will talk to him tomorrow once you are cooled down or that you love him despite everything. With a spine of steel, you step out of the house. 

The door clicks shut and he crumbles to the floor, heavy sobs wracking his body as his fist pounds the floorboards. He yells and screams, letting his anguish fill the sounds of silence that surround him. He forces out all the words that he wasn’t able to speak before, hoping against hope that you will somehow hear them. 

But you don’t, as you have already disappeared deep into the night, letting your own tears fall down your cheeks.


	2. 5 hours, 32 minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we learn what exactly happened.

It’s been 5 hours, 32 minutes and 8 seconds since you left the house. 

Not that Clyde is counting, but he is. He can hear the time move on the grandfather clock you brought over when you moved in. It chimes every 30 minutes, once every half hour, and as many times as the hour is. He counts the minutes in between every chime, it’s the only way he can keep sane.

The move-in was six months ago and it was the happiest he’d been. But it’s a distant, grey memory now that you are not here anymore. All because of his idiocy, stupid shit that happened this evening.

_You don’t usually help around the bar, but it being Friday and Clyde being short-staffed, he asked you to join him behind the counter. Big mistake._

_He knows he can be a bit harsh, especially when things get hectic and he tends to forget you are not a bartender nor a busser. A few too many clipped lines, not enough consideration of tight spaces, no encouraging words to keep you from not falling down the rabbit hole, and you were done._

_“Clyde, I’m finished here.” You say softly, after you’ve cleaned up the counter once more. “I’ll get started on the backroom inventory, tell me when you are ready to head home?”_

_He doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard you and it only brings you down. Yes, he is busy with customers and that is okay, it’s actually more than okay because that means that the bar is successful but… Would it kill him to treat you with a little kindness?_

_You try to shrug the feeling off, this is nothing personal, and head down to the back room. Numbers have always been a comfort to you, it’s easy to make sense of the world when things match and numbers never lie. So you take hold of the clipboard with today’s order numbers and start counting._

_Time flies as you concentrate on the crates and what they contain that you don’t realize the front has gone fully quiet. It’s only when all the lights go out that you are woken from your task._

_“Clyde?” You call out, suddenly a little spooked. “Clyde, babe, is everything alright?”_

_No answer._

_Nothing but silence greets you._

_You fumble with your phone, turning on the flashlight option so that you can see where the light switches are. But they are of no use, as when you click on them, you remember that Clyde mentioned them being broken recently. You guess he hasn’t had the time to call an electrician and he has used the master switch by his office to kill all lights._

_You sigh, lighting your way towards his office with your phone so you can retrieve your bag and find your man. But to your disappointment, he is not in his office. And neither is your bag. In fact, everything is deserted and quiet and you suddenly feel a little scared._

_You turn over your phone, looking at the screen. 1 unread message, from Clyde. “Forgot ya bag at DT. Bringing it home. See soon.”_

_Oh, that utter bastard. He has forgotten you completely! You are fuming by now, all ideas of being scared and looked after completely forgotten. Pressing the small green button next to Clyde’s name, you bring the phone to your ear and wait for him to pick up. He surely cannot have gotten far from the bar._

_“Darlin’?” His rumble, the sweet twang of his baritone brings you back to the present. You take a second to orient yourself, there is no use for you to go off the rails now. So you swallow the anger and will to shout at him over the phone._

_“Forgot something?” There is so much venom in your voice it could kill every single living thing within a five mile radius. There’s a beat of silence, a second one. And then Clyde curses on the phone, leaving words in his wake that would make his momma roll around in her grave should she hear them._

_“… ‘m so sorry darlin’. Headed back now, ‘ll be there in five minutes.”_

_You don’t bother with answering anymore, you just close the phone and head outside to wait. True to his word, this time at least, Clyde is at the front of the bar in less than five minutes, looking at you with fear in his eyes from the front seat of his truck._

_You step in and refuse to look at him. Not lookinh at the eyes that you know will make you melt, make you want to forgive and forget all that happened tonight. But you are too angry, too enraged to give him the chance._

_“Take me home.” You say, the only words that will be given in the drive back to the house you share._

The memory has Clyde swallowing the burning sensation of tears yet again. How could he be so ignorant, so stupid, so careless in his actions? In his words? He will forever replay all the things he said, or more like barked, in your direction that night. And the way that he left, not even second guessing finding only your bag at his office… You have every right to be mad at him and he doesn’t blame you for your actions of leaving him alone at all. He deserves your ire, all of it ten times over. 

He has no idea where you have gone for the night, he can only hope you are safe somewhere where you are appreciated and loved. It’s a knife in his gut, knowing that you need to be away from him to feel those things. All he ever wants is to make you feel good and tonight he failed most specurately. 

He can’t help but to wonder what is the way forward from this. Is there even a way for Clyde to fix this? Will you let him apologize, grovel at your feet and grant him the mercy of allowing him to make amends? And can he even find the words for any of it? 

And if he doesn’t hate himself enough yet, the sleeplessness will surely only hinder his possibilities of anything happening, of him miraculously finding the rights words to speak to you. Because if he is a mess when fully alert, surely insomnia will not help his case. Though he cannot do much about it, Clyde is painfully aware of the fact that he will not sleep tonight, in the bed you two share. He can lie in here, toss and turn constantly, but sleep will not come for him. Only your fading scent on the pillow pressed against him to keep him company and last of his nerves intact. 

He fears the worst; that he only got six months of living with you, the best thing that ever happened to him. Barely a full year in your presence. It’s not nearly enough, a lifetime would not be enough for Clyde to be in your orbit, absorbing the rays of sunshine you seem to emit. Because without those rays, he will spiral into darkness. He can already feel the first curve. 

It’s been 5 hours, 53 minutes and 13 seconds as he succumbs to his tears once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on Tumblr or Twitter.


	3. I Don't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All maybe not lost.

Clyde finds you on the bench in the park on Wednesday. It’s where you’ve agreed to meet, a neutral but familiar place. It’s where you have sat with him for countless dates, watching the world turn and talking about everything between the sun and the moon. It usually brings Clyde some comfort, this place is special, but now you have called him there to receive his judgment. He can only hope that agreeing to this place means something good. 

You haven’t been home since Friday night and all you have communicated is two terse text messages earlier in the morning:

_Can we talk?_

_Yes. Meet me at the park at 1 pm. The bench._

He should be glad that you’ve given him this opportunity, this chance to see you face to face but when his amber eyes take you in it’s clear that the past days haven’t been kind to you either. Your eyes, normally so vibrant and full of laughter, are dull and emotionless. He sees you have borrowed a shirt from your friend, wherever you have been the past days but your pants are the same ones that you left with. You look sad and it makes Clyde even sadder. 

“Thank ya fer meeting me.” He rumbles but does not dare to sit next to you. Not yet anyway. You glance in his direction and something hardens in your eyes. 

“I guess it was time.” You tell Clyde, your voice void of emotion. It makes him want to curl up and hide, he can already feel this opportunity slipping past his fingers. Clyde takes a deep breath, straightens his spine and steps closer. You do not react to him apart from your eyes that track his movements as he slowly lowers himself on the bench next to you. But unlike before, when you have sat on this very same bench, you do not touch each other in any way. 

“I wanted to… I mean… ‘m… “ His voice is trembling and he cannot find the words. Clyde curses heavily inside his mind, he is certain he will mess this up. He takes a couple of seconds and centers himself, before beginning again. 

“I wanted to tell ya how sorry I am. I didn’t mean tha’ stuff I said t’ ya, none of it.”

You look at him for a moment, taking in the words he has said. He tries so hard not to react, not to give too much away. Clyde’s actually pretty happy with what has come out of his mouth; it's not what he practiced in his car but it's close. He can feel his thoughts gear up inside, all jumbled up in his brains and he wills himself to stay silent. 

“This is not about what you said or didn’t say, Clyde. I am a big girl and can understand that under pressure there isn’t always time to consider one’s’ words or how they came out.” You state, the words carrying over the storm in his mind. He looks down in shame, he knows the words he spoke were clipped and business-like, nothing like he usually speaks to you. 

“But…” He tries to start speaking, but you interrupt him with a flash in your eyes. It’s eerily similar to what happened on Friday night, the small flash of lightning behind your irises. 

“What I can’t understand is how you could forget that I was there. I was there for you. You asked me to help you out, you wanted me to be there and then to leave me in the bar, after closing and locking the place up, is something I cannot wrap my mind around. You left me Clyde. Like I was of nothing important. We live together, we are partners, aren’t we? Wasn’t I enough for a thought?” Your voice raises in anger, letting the hurt bleed out. 

He can’t help the shrinking of his body in a wince, he is too ashamed of himself and his actions. He did those things, he didn’t do enough and he let you down. And he’s beat himself up for it numerous times already but to hear the words fall from your lips, the very ones Clyde loves to kiss, is gutting him.

You look at him, expecting an answer. He gulps down his emotions and nods as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Yea, we are partners.”

“If I hadn’t called you, would you have realized that I was left behind? Would you have come for me? Or would you have thought I’d be out with my friends and just go to bed?” You challenge him, knowing fully well that he would have thought that as it was not uncommon for the two of you to go and do your own thing from time to time. 

“I…. I don’t…” He can’t get the words out, he doesn’t want to disappoint you any further. Clyde knows that he probably wouldn’t have thought twice over you not being there. It was Friday after all and he had a shift at the bar, he cannot expect you to wait for him alone at home all the time. 

“Mmmm, guess that answers me.” You sigh softly, your eyes finally letting some emotion bleed into them. Sadness? Compassion maybe? Or resolution? Clyde cannot tell and he is afraid of the answer. But he must ask before all this eats him up from inside out.

“What happens next?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to happen?”

“I, ah, I want to make this right.” For that Clyde is certain, he wants to do everything in his power to repair this hurt that you are feeling. So he goes on, asking the one thing that he wants, he needs to know.

“Are we still…. Can I still… Can I call ya ma darlin’?”

A beat, then another. 

“I don’t know. You hurt me real bad Clyde. I felt abandoned, lost, left behind.”

He knows this, he’s heard you say it mere moments ago but it’s still a knife in his stomach. It’s twisting and turning, carving a hole too deep and too painful. He can feel his tears burning behind his eyes.

“‘m sorry Y/N. Truly.” He whispers and his hand twitches. 

“I love you darlin’. Please, please let me make this right. Can I? Is there a way fer me to make it up to ya?” Clyde is not above begging at this point, he knows he messed up badly. But you only shrug and the eye connection is once again lost as you turn your head down. The silence stretches on for minutes, maybe hours. But Clyde is willing to wait, he will give you all the time in the world if you need it. 

Suddenly, your hand reaches out to his and you place your dry, warm palm against his sweaty one. You squeeze it once and it’s reassuring in its simplicity. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Your soft voice, almost a whisper reaches his ears and it takes only a moment for him to absorb the words. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of him. It’s not a “no”. Clyde still has a chance and he will grasp at it, will make it count. And for that he is grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on Tumblr and Twitter.


	4. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

It’s Friday. 

Clyde has been dreading this day ever since he met you at the park, at the bench that once held only happy memories. He guesses the latest memory isn’t sad per se, but it’s not the happiest one either. But he’s taken and stored it in his heart anyway if only to serve as a reminder to himself.

You came home with him that afternoon, but as much as he wanted to, Clyde knew things were not the same yet. On the positive side though, he got to take you home, was able to cook dinner for both of you, and got to fall asleep with you under the same roof. Even as he laid alone on the couch that night, he slept better knowing you were near. 

He took steps to ensure you knew he would be there: covering only the opening shift at the bar so he could spend his nights with you, sending a bouquet of your favorite flowers to your workplace (this earned Clyde a wide smile and emotional eyes) and cooking your favorite foods in the evenings. 

In addition to these, he talked with you, opened a line of communication. It wasn’t easy for him, talking about his feelings. It was painful sometimes, telling you how he had felt on those days when he was alone in the trailer, that even patrons at the bar noticed how Clyde was more withdrawn and silent than normally. He talked about it anyway and as time went on, talking became easier. 

He talked about how he was used to hiding behind a stoic facade, how words never seemed to come out right, how he envied the people who had a way with words. Clyde spoke of his insecurities and his happiness as you and him grew closer. 

In turn, you told him where you’d been, how you’d taken sick days off work to deal with all the emotions and how it was important to you that things were taken seriously now. You wanted to make this work too, but you needed some time to sort everything out. You too spoke of your insecurities, how you felt isolated and lost. While the words still cut deep, at the same time this was a healing time for both of you. 

It was peaceful, this new normal Clyde and you carved out. Slowly, but surely you made progress and after three nights on the couch, Clyde moved back into your shared bedroom. It felt like a huge step, lying there at night with you in his arms once again. It felt good. Like it was meant to be. 

But it’s Friday now and Clyde is fearful that all the progress will be lost. He has a double-shift at the Duck Tape, which means he is unable to cook tonight, unable to fall asleep next to you. Realistically he knows this fear is irrational, you are as committed to getting this to work as he is, yet the tendrils of darkness are already floating around in his mind. 

As he prepares to leave the trailer a thought pops into his mind. There is something he can do, something he can try and make so that his fear is slightly diminished. Clyde takes a quick look at the clock to make sure he has the time and sits down on the kitchen table with a pen and paper. 

**

Clyde keeps glancing at the clock at the end of the bar, nervous as the time has passed when you normally arrive at home. He thinks of the moment you find his letter, how you might feel as you read the words he has put down on the paper. Will you smile or bite your lip in worry? Will you keep the letter close to you, or throw it in the trash? Or will you ignore it, not interested in it at all?

He hopes he hasn’t gone too far, hasn’t put you into a position where you have to choose. What started out as a good idea, something that had soothed him as he left the trailer, is now turned into a monster inside his mind, taunting him with every second that passes. 

He keeps playing the words over in his head, anxious for each and every one of them. Did he mess this up, all this progress? Did he go too far, come on too strong? He keeps rolling them in his mind as he serves up drinks and keeps glancing at the clock, its worn hands moving too slowly for him.

The bar door opens and Clyde turns to greet the newcomer. Suddenly the world seems to stand still. You stand in the doorway, still in your work clothes, looking determined but slightly nervous. 

He gulps, his previous feelings amplifying in his mind, raging to get to the surface. His body makes the decision for him though, the long gait taking him to you before he can second-guess himself. And there you are, standing in front of him, so close Clyde can count each and every lash in your eyes. 

“Y/N…” He murmurs as the world around him fades away, the noises of the bar fading like a record ending. You smile softly, the corners of your mouth turn upward in that gentle manner he has always been captivated by. Your arms wrap around his neck as you rise to your toes and Clyde holds his breath in anticipation. He holds your hips delicately like you are made of glass, not putting any pressure in case you want to leave his arms. You regard him for a second before you lean in and suddenly butterflies erupt in his stomach. This is it. 

Three words are whispered against his lips just before they collide with yours and everything else melts away. It’s soft, sweet, gentle, and perfect. Clyde wraps his own arms around you and lifts you up, closer to his chest. He feels like he can fly, like he can soar across the blue sky. It is everything and more he has ever hoped for. As you come up for air, Clyde whispers two words back to you before diving in for another earth-shattering kiss. 

_“Walk with me?”_

_“Always darlin’.”_

**

Clyde’s letter:

_Darlin,_

_I am sorry I cannot be with you tonight when you return home. I wish I was, being apart from you is not something I want to be._

_I know I’m not a poet or even a man of many words but I hope I can convey some of the emotions I have here, in this letter to you._

_You asked for my courage and for my patience. I might not feel courageous tonight as I leave our sanctuary but know that I will always be patient. Whenever you are ready, please know that I’ll be here._

_I hope you know that. I hope I can tell it to you every day of my life, if not in words then in gestures. And I promise you, my darlin’, I will wait for the rest of my life patiently if that is what you wish for._

_I love you Y/N, I have probably always loved you. Ever since you came into my life, I have felt the warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze of the wind, and the loving embrace of the earth surrounding me as I stand with you. Never in front of you, but next to you as equals. As partners._

_And I hope that one day you allow me to walk with you._

_Clyde_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on Tumblr and Twitter.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr and Twitter.


End file.
